The Road Not Taken
by Daniel K. English
Summary: She is perfect. He isn't. Were they really twins? A short one-shot about Jaune if he didn't go to Beacon.


**The Road Not Taken**

* * *

><p><em>I shall be telling this with a sigh<br>Somewhere ages and ages hence:  
>Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—<br>I took the one less traveled by,  
>And that has made all the difference.<em>

— "The Road Not Taken", by Robert Frost

* * *

><p><em>She is perfect.<em>

Jaune watches Jeanne kiss their parents goodbye before the airship departs. There are tears in his mother's eyes and unshed ones in his father's. Both are proud of their youngest daughter. He catches Jeanne's eyes and she smiles. The one he returns is uneasy, and he can't help but to think again— _she is perfect._

Jeanne hugs her brother tightly. Inseperable, their parents think. It's far from the truth. They can't tell the reason why Jaune became awkward around his family is because of his own self-loathing than because of puberty. No one knows this; not even Jeanne, the other half. She lets go when boarding begins and waves goodbye as she drags her trolley away. Jaune can't take his eyes off her, the fake smile plastered on his face hiding the myriad of spiteful thoughts he's tucked away. For a moment he wonders why he didn't change Jeanne's documents, her records and his. It could have been him on that airship, flying off into the future.

His last glimpse of her before she disappears is burned into his memory.

Blond hair hanging past her shoulders. Shining blue eyes. A smile that lights the station. He idly notes how similar her own hoodie and jeans were to his.

The differences are there as well—smaller clothes for her frame, with fitted boots and gloves. Crocea Mars sheathed at her belt. Pauldrons and chestpiece. She is happier than he could ever be, smarter, quicker, more clever; the list has grown over the years. There is something on that list that let her into Beacon.

_She is perfect._ But not him.

Not Jaune.

* * *

><p>Her first letter comes the next week.<p>

Jeanne made friends. Lots of them. Two names catch his parents' eyes. He checks the net later and finds that Weiss Schnee and Pyrrha Nikos are both rather famous people.

And pretty.

_They should have been his friends._

As his father reads the letter aloud, something dark enters Jaune's heart. It twists and hurts a bit. It's jealousy. It slithers in like a snake, winds around his heart and squeezes. It doesn't hurt as badly as it did a month ago, when he found out about his sister's acceptance into Beacon, or even years ago, when it became apparent that he missed whatever trait that made the Arc family legendary. But it is there and it hurts. He hides it well, and bears with it until his father finishes reading.

His mother has a soft smile.

Jaune buries his thoughts beneath a mountain of books. They are his only comfort.

* * *

><p>The letters come either once a week or every two weeks.<p>

In those letters, the family learns of Jeanne's life at Beacon. She develops a rivalry with Weiss. Ruby is her best friend. She is Pyrrha's best friend. Yang is a thrillseeker, Blake is mysterious, and Nora is fun. Jeanne complains her last teammate, Ren, is too quiet. Jaune feels sympathetic, but keeps that to himself. He knows better than to point it out. But what stands out the most to him is the way she asks for Jaune. Never before have they been separate, especially not for two whole months.

I miss you, she wrote.

He doesn't. Or rather, he does, but there is more on his mind. His jealousy is still there, simmering. And to some extent, it has become hate. They overwhelm his thoughts regarding her.

He looks at those three cursive words with a bitter smile.

It is curious how drastic the changes two months apart make. Because he's lived with her his whole life, Jaune should have been used to this.

_Her being better than him. _

_Her living his dreams._

_Her being a true Arc._

He reads for the rest of the night. For a moment he forgets about his anger.

* * *

><p>He goes to school. A normal school, with a curriculum for civilians. He does rather well—the teachers like him, the students like him, the books like him. It's not what he wants.<p>

Jaune gets a perfect score in a test. It's not what he wants.

Jaune is on the Honor's List. It's not what he wants.

The feelings inside are like demons now, torturing him with their words. _It doesn't matter. Jeanne is better. Who cares? Who needs you? You're just a useless, disgraceful Arc!_

Even his books give him little relief.

* * *

><p>There is an explosion at the highway. Jaune is nearby. He hears gunfire and hits the ground. More explosions, more gunfire. His ears are ringing from the noise, as well as the heavy beating of his own heart. There is chaos everywhere. At one point he spots a Huntsman. He prays there are no Grimm.<p>

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna die!_

He is shaking. He doesn't know what to do. As far as he can tell the carnage is everywhere. Then he hears a voice. There is crying. There is screaming. Pleas for help amidst the din.

He finds the strength to go. There is a woman, a faunus, wounded. She is lying in the rubble of a collapsed house. Her children are nearby, crying and calling for help. He gets to her and finds that she is bleeding at her leg. He rips off his sleeve and bandages her, remembering with surprising clarity what one of the books he read—an autobiography of a combat medic—told him to do in this situation. He fashions a brace from the debris and supports her as they make their way out of the fighting zone. They find a police line a few blocks away. Medics rush her off, but not before she thanks Jaune.

And then he does something he'd never thought he'd do.

He goes back.

Somehow he rescues two dozen others before the fighting is taken care of.

He feels good about it.

His parents don't find out. Jaune is good at hiding things from them. They worry about him when he comes home late—he never comes home late—but when he explains how he has been studying at the library all day they have no choice but to let him go. He climbs upstairs, shuts his bedroom door and promptly falls asleep on the floor.

* * *

><p>The week passes. Jaune feels a bit differently than usual. There is a spring in his step he never had. He finds himself smiling. The whispers inside of him, of his own insecurities, are quieter. Even the letter his sister sends hurts less.<p>

Then the man knocks on their door. Jaune recognizes him; the man is one of the medics from that day. He notices Jaune and smiles.

An apprenticeship.

His parents are stunned. An apprenticeship for what?

A surgeon. A doctor. Something in the medical field. Jaune's eyes widen and his heart trembles in excitement. He remembers that day, when he saved the faunus woman. He remembers her gratefulness, the way her kids hugged him when they made it. It doesn't take the man much to convince Jaune to agree. They don't know he is set on it even before the man knocked on their door.

Not even Jaune.

* * *

><p>A month later and Jaune finds himself in Vacuo.<p>

The country is different, but it doesn't matter. He knows he is here to do something with his life. Purpose sings in his blood. He knocks out his remaining education at the local school before heading straight into medicine. He goes to a university there with astounding recommendations, gets his degree in three years.

Then follows eight years of medical school, all the while working a job at the hospital and getting first-hand experience from following his teacher.

Slowly his circle of friends turn from fans of Huntsmen and Huntresses to nurses, doctors and medical students. He becomes a veteran of his own battlefield, a paragon of his ideals—he saves lives, fights battles and is damn good at it. And just as quickly as it comes, the experience is over. He is no longer an apprentice. He packs his bags, hugs friends goodbye, accepts thanks from the people he's saved, and gives one firm handshake to the man who gave Jaune the chance to find himself. As a busybody for the past eleven years, he wonders how his family is doing before he takes a shuttle back home.

* * *

><p>His welcome home is bloody.<p>

The hospital he worked at transferred him to one in Vale, and his first patient there comes the second he steps back onto his homeland.

It's his sister. It's Jeanne.

He moves quickly. Her condition is severe. As he gets to the surgery room, he catches the sight of his parents, both pale and wrought with worry. He catches Jeanne's friends, all just as frightened. He is the only one who stands tall after seeing Jeanne bloody and mangled.

She'll live. He'll make sure of it.

He knows the world is not fair and that it may take her away. He knows. Look at Jeanne. Look at him. But, damn it, he has fought it all his life, and this isn't any different!

The surgery takes twenty-five hours straight. The aides work as his hands do, cutting and sewing and pumping. There is too much blood. There is too little blood. She is dying. She is stable. Jaune keeps going. At one point Jeanne's heart flatlines, but a minute later he brings her back. It's a miracle. And Jaune? He just keeps going. Twenty-five hours later and Jeanne is safe.

Jaune gets a drink and passes out from exhaustion.

* * *

><p>The first thing Jeanne sees when she wakes up is the sleeping forms of her parents in a chair. They have a blanket to keep them warm.<p>

Then she spots Ruby and Pyrrha, the former sleeping with her head resting on her arms against her hospital bed and the latter asleep leaning her head against the wall. Her eyes move to the whites of the wall, the white curtains, her blue hospital gown, and then—

"Jaune?"

Her voice is weak. Raspy, even.

He looks up from his book. She didn't know he wore glasses. Hells, this is the first she is seeing him since she left for Beacon—eleven years ago?

He is different. Grown up. An adult. His hair is trimmed and well-kept. His scrawny build is no more, now more athletic and filled out. He smiles—Jaune never smiles—and puts away his glasses. Her stare lingers for too long. It takes Jeanne a moment to compose herself. She definitely did _not_ check out her twin brother. She would admit to nothing.

"Hey Jeanne," he says softly, and immediately she feels something.

She wipes a tear from her eye. She is alive. Her brother is back. Everything is finally right with the world.

* * *

><p>It's a strange experience to be talking to his sister again.<p>

Sure, he'd sent letters to his family. But the way he'd spent the last eleven years cut off all real contact with them. His sister, especially. And now, it's quite different. His parents are ecstatic about everything. Jeanne's friends are appreciative. At one point, Ruby hugs him. Pyrrha—_Pyrrha Nikos!_—kisses him on the cheek. And Jeanne? Surgery aside, she has grown up. Lean. Prettier. More womanly. And for one reason or another, she won't stop staring at him.

He knocks on her door before entering.

Jeanne looks up from her scroll. "Hi, Jaune. You're off?" She notices the tub and cloth in his arms. "What's that for?"

"Sponge bath. Nurses said I might as well since I'm visiting."

Jeanne's eyes bug out. "W-what?"

"You heard me." The door locks behind him. "Now, c'mon. Gown off."

"No. No, no, no! You're—no!"

"No seriously, c'mon. You don't have to be embarrassed. It's nothing I haven't seen. I washed you when you were still unconscious, and I even performed surgery on you."

Jeanne's face is beet red. It can melt chocolate. "That's different! No, stay away!"

Most apparent these days is something more profound. His demons are at rest. He smiles for himself. That's all he could ask for.

* * *

><p><em>an: A small one-shot about Jaune becoming an adult. It's mostly influenced by Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken". _

_Not the best of my writing, but definitely not the worst. (Hells, this is the first time my writing has a theme!_)

_And as an added note, no I don't have further plans for this. I imagine anything more developed would be very shippy, and that's not my forte._


End file.
